You are very pretty,
but what if I was blind?
Would you be beautiful,
if I had no sight?
I wrote this poem some time ago,
as always, at night:
It's funny and somehow horrifying,
how monsters catch on my mind when I must sleep.
...I'm tired, I want to close my eyes,
I want to rest, but I can't.
Night's gloomy, there's no sound,
it is so silent I can hear the beats of my heart,
and the murmur of my thoughts, unquiet.
Out of the many troubled thoughts,
there's one which stands out...
What the heck is beauty?
A pretty girl is in my head,
but is she in my heart?
Sometimes I do wish I was blind,
there are times we look,
and see not.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.